Path of Dragons 4 - Chapter 34 - Become Useful (Patreon)

Miguel slipped between two revelers, keeping his hand on his dagger.  He really wished he’d brought his spear, but according to his mother, that wasn’t appropriate for a festival.  As if half the people in the square weren’t armed.  Even Colt had his sword in the scabbard at his hip, and nobody had tried to convince him to leave the weapon back in the hotel room. 

As those thoughts shifted through his mind, Miguel’s eyes flicked back and forth at the merrymakers.  Most of Argos had turned out for the festival, which wasn’t surprising, given the fact that there was free food available.  And alcohol, though Miguel didn’t care about that.  He’d tasted beer a couple of times, and the taste had left him wondering why adults seemed so enamored with the stuff.

The food did smell amazing, though, and Miguel’s feet followed his nose to a table where a bunch of skewers were on offer.  He took one, thanking the woman behind the table, and wandered away before she could make conversation.  However, after taking his first bite, he very nearly turned around and went back for seconds.  The skewer featured roasted pork and peppers, and it was one of the tastiest things he’d ever eaten.  The meat was juicy, the peppers were crisp, and everything had that something extra that Miguel could identify as the result of someone’s use of a cooking skill.

Still, he kept going, eating his meal as he went.  Along the way, he watched the crowd of Argos residents.  They all looked so happy.  So content.  Meanwhile, Miguel felt the opposite.  He’d thought that he’d gotten over his mother’s death, but the reality was that he’d simply distracted himself from those feelings.  Now, though, he had plenty of opportunity to examine his emotions, and that act had pushed him into a melancholy mood. 

He had to admit that part of it was due to the revelers themselves.  He was old enough to recognize his mother’s and uncle’s intent.  They wanted to celebrate Alyssa’s life.  Yet, Miguel found the party somewhat offensive, and he felt – erroneously, he knew – that the people were celebrating his mother’s death.  That was a big distinction, and one he couldn’t really ignore, even if he knew it was an unfair assessment. 

After he’d finished the skewer, Miguel found another table manned by the old innkeeper, Agatha.  She waved him over and said, “I have something special for you.  Just wait.”

Then, she reached under the table – which was laden with fruit – and retrieved a small, wrapped package.  She handed it to Miguel.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Open,” Agatha answered with an impatient gesture.  She grinned.  “It is good.”

Miguel did as she asked, revealing a small, rectangular pastry.  Upon inspection, he saw that it featured many flaky layers, and it smelled of chocolate.  “This looks amazing.  What is it called?” he asked, genuinely interested.  He hadn’t had many opportunities lately to eat sweets, so he wasn’t going to waste one that presented itself so willingly.

“Chocolate mascarpone baklava,” she answered with a grin.  “Very rich.  Very good.  Eat.”

Miguel nodded, then took a bite.  Immediately, flavors he thought he’d forgotten burst in his mouth.  It had been years since he’d had chocolate, but even then, he’d never had anything like the baklava.  “Oh my God,” he mumbled around the mouthful of flakey goodness.  “So good.”

“Yes.  Very good,” she said, her grin widening.  “Send your uncle to me.  I have more.”

Miguel promised that he would, though he had no idea where Elijah was.  Even if he did know of his uncle’s whereabouts, he wasn’t willing to go hunt him down – largely because, as he ate the baklava, he saw a familiar figure slipping through the crowd.

She was even shorter than him, and because of how thin she was, the girl looked even younger than he was.  But she already had access to her archetype, which meant that she was probably at least a year or so older.  More importantly, Miguel had become a little obsessed with her, mostly due to the fact that he’d saved her from being beaten, and she’d repaid that kindness by stealing his mother’s coin purse and disappearing. 

At the very least, Miguel thought he deserved an explanation.  So, he bade farewell to Agatha, then started following the girl.  As he did, he was careful to stay well back so as to keep her from noticing his presence.  A few times, she glanced in his direction, but he’d managed to avoid her searching gaze by slipping behind one reveler or another.  In the chaos of the festival, remaining unseen wasn’t that difficult.

So, over the next few minutes, he watched the girl as she made her way through the crowd, bumping into people every few steps.  At first, Miguel didn’t recognize what she was doing, but then he caught sight of a darting hand, and it dawned on him.  She was working the crowd, stealing from people even as they celebrated his mother’s life. 

It was galling.

But it was also a little impressive.  She was stealing from people, and right out in the open.  That had to be difficult.

A few times, Miguel thought he noticed her use a skill or spell, but he couldn’t be sure.  He had no idea what archetype she was, and it was obvious that she had a class he’d never encountered as well.  Still, it was clear that she was using something to remain undetected. 

It was fascinating, watching her.

And before he realized what he was doing, he’d followed her from the square.  The surrounding streets had plenty of traffic, which he used to his advantage as he continued to tail the girl.  However, after around fifteen minutes, she led him into what was plainly a bad part of town. 

Nowhere in Argos could truly be classified as a slum.  Yet, human nature seemed to dictate that some people would have it better than others, and those prosperous few didn’t like to live next to the ones who struggled a little more.  In Argos, the poorer part of town was characterized by less elaborate buildings that were far closer together.  The streets were a little narrower, and the pedestrians were more shabbily dressed.  Still, no one looked malnourished or overly dirty.

Well, nobody but the girl Miguel was following.

However, he’d begun to suspect that she looked the way she did by design.  Maybe she used her small stature to make people believe she was younger – and less powerful – than she was. 

Either way, Miguel continued to follow her until, at last, she entered an old warehouse that looked long abandoned.  The building abutted the town’s wall, and it was around fifty yards wide.  Perhaps it had once been a true warehouse or a department store.  Miguel had no idea, because it bore no signage or any other indication as to its nature, current or former. 

As Miguel leaned out from behind a building, studying the warehouse, he felt something press against his back. 

“Don’t move, kid,” came a gruff voice. 

Of course, Miguel moved.

He dove forward, yanking his dagger from its sheath at his waist as he rolled to his feet.  That’s when he realized he was surrounded.  Three figures, all of which were larger than he was, encircled him.  Each one had weapons drawn.  One wielded a sword, another a staff, and a third had leveled a wand in his direction. 

“What do you want?” Miguel demanded.

“What are you doing here?”

“Is this private property?  I didn’t see any signs.”

“Signs?”

“Like ‘Beware of petty thugs’ or something,” Miguel said.

It took the sword-wielder a moment to wrap his mind around the obvious insult, and when he did, he snarled and stepped forward.

“Stop!” said the girl with the wand.  “We’re not here to beat up little kids, no matter how smart their mouths are.”

“What do you want to do?” asked the fellow with the staff.

“Not our call.  Let Zoe decide.”

“Zoe’s not our leader,” said the one with the sword.

“You could just let me go.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m just saying.  Nobody’s crossed any lines yet,” Miguel stated with some degree of false bravado.  If it came down to a fight, he intended to put everything into an all-out attack so he might have a shot at escape.  Because from the way these three moved, they had the benefit of enhanced attributes.  That meant he had no chance in a fair fight.

“Come with us.  I promise, nobody will hurt you, kid,” said the girl. 

Miguel bristled at being referred to as if he was a child, but he suppressed his anger.  Did they know what he’d been through? That he’d killed monsters?  That he had crossed the wilderness?  No.  If they did, they wouldn’t dismiss him so easily. 

He held up his hands.  “Fine,” he said with forced affability.  “But I’ll warn you right now.  If you do anything to me, someone will make sure you pay.”

“Think you’re some kind of big shot?” snorted the young man with the sword.  He stepped forward, and before Miguel could react, he’d snatched the dagger away.  The sword-wielder only looked to be a couple of years older than Miguel, but those were important years.  He was at least a foot taller, with a wispy mustache decorating his upper lip. 

Miguel glanced at the other two.  The one with the staff was a little shorter, though he looked to be at least fifty pounds heavier.  And not with muscle.  The girl was somewhere in between, though with a pleasant look about her.  Whatever the case, they didn’t look like hardened criminals. 

Hopefully, that impression would prove accurate.

Soon enough, they were escorting Miguel into the warehouse.  Once inside, he saw that it was a large, open space, though there were a few crates piled on the other side of the expansive room.  There, a familiar figure sat next to an ethereal lamp.  As the trio guided Miguel closer, he saw a pile of coins scattered across a makeshift table made from an old door that stood atop a barrel. 

She looked up, then frowned.  “Seriously?  Him?  What are you doing here, kid?” she demanded. 

“You know him?” asked the wand-wielding girl.

“He’s the one who saved me from those idiots that jumped me the other day,” she answered. 

“Him?  He doesn’t even have an archetype.”

“I don’t know how he did it, but –”

“Attributes aren’t everything,” Miguel said.  “And you just disappeared.  Are you a thief?  Why did those guys attack you?”

“Just get him out of here,” said the thief.  At her order, the two boys grabbed Miguel’s arms.

“What? After I saved you?  Come on!” Miguel demanded, fruitlessly attempting to escape.  But their attributes were too high.

“I’ll tell you what,” she said, standing.  “Get an archetype.  Maybe a class.  Then come back here, and I’ll tell you everything you want to know.  But until then, you’re just an annoying kid who happened to be in the right place at the wrong time.”

“I saved you,” he spat.

“Thanks for that.  But every good deed doesn’t deserve a reward,” she said.  Then, she nodded toward the door.

As the two boys dragged Miguel away, he shouted, “At least tell me your name!”

“Stop.”

The two did.

The girl approached.  She still looked painfully thin, but at least she wasn’t covered in bruises.  “Name’s Zoe.  Best thief in Argos.  Probably the world,” she boasted.  Then, she kissed her fingers before placing them on his lips.  “Come back and see me when you’re useful.”

Without another word, she turned on her heel and returned to her seat.  As she did, the two boys dragged Miguel away.  He’d stopped resisting, stunned by her brazen actions.  Even when they pushed him out the door and told him not to come back, he just stood there, staring forward. 

Eventually, though, he let out a long sigh and returned to the square.  As he traversed the city, though, he could only think of the fact that he now had a goal. 

“Become useful,” she’d said.   

And Miguel intended to do just that.